Green Day
by Dusk to Ashes
Summary: Schwarz St. Patrick's Day ficlet, 1 AM this morning-style! ^_^;;


Green Day  
(nothing to do with the band; think St. Patrick's Day)  
Warnings: shortish, fast, probable OOC, yaoiness, and I wrote this at 1 AM today, so cut me a little slack, ne?  
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It was a typical day for the Schwarz; it happened to be Sunday, so Farfarello would probably try to stir up more pain than usual, but still, it was a typical day. Schuldig flounced into the "dining room," a corner of the living room near the kitchen with a table, up a little early but ready for breakfast. Crawford would have known even powerless that the German man planned on having a large breakfast; this was Schuldig's day to cook lunch and therefore they would each be making a sandwich.  
"Guten morgen, Bralein," Schuldig began, trying out a new annoying nickname. Turning the page of his newspaper irritably, the American man wondered if he would ever run out of them; he certainly hoped so. "Happy Saint Patrick's Day to you, too," the redhead continued, feigning disappointment at the older man's silence. After grabbing no more than a cup of coffee, he walked off, laughing to himself and muttering things in German that are best left that way, lest the rating here skyrocket. Paying his coworker's behavior no mind, Crawford turned another page and went on without a word. Grinning in a manner somewhere between demonic and amused, the telepath let himself into the psycho's room.  
"Hello, Farfarello," he greeted the half-sleeping man dangling upside-down, as was the norm, from the ceiling. Opening his functional eye, the Irishman glanced at his visitor. "Having a nice Saint Patrick's Day so far?" Taking a moment to consider, as well as wake up, the restrained killer replied.  
"Going to let me down? Or pinch me? Punish me more effectively, maybe?" he queried, reinforcing Schuldig's permanent smirk. Sipping his coffee and pretending to think it over, the troublesome mind reader developed a plot.  
"As a matter of fact... I just may, if you'll help me make lunch... After all, you of all people should get to celebrate, ja?" Seeing no reason to disagree since he was getting his way, the captive readily agreed. Catching a particularly entertaining thought, the undeniably sex-crazed younger man added, "You really aren't wearing and green, though... I think it's my obligation to punish you."  
A couple hours later, after a disgusted Crawford had gone for a long walk and an experienced Nagi had broken out the headphones, two rather pleased young men left Farfarello's room for the kitchen. Unfortunately for the lot of them, Schuldig still hadn't the faintest idea what he was doing for lunch. His one major brainstorm has turned out to be an expensive caterer's shopping list, and so he'd settled on "something green."  
"There's lettuce, broccoli, spinach, asparagus, turnip greens..."  
"If I was trying to poison them, I'd do it outright," the would-be chef replied. "Aren't there any green foods besides vegetables?"  
"There's always food coloring..." Schuldig frowned, bored. This had sounded like a much better idea before. *Green, green...* Farfarello ceased searching the cupboards while his fellow Schwarz was thinking and pilfered a knife from the drawer. "How about pears?" he suggested. "If you'd thought of this sooner, we could have grown some mold..." When not even this evicted a response, the masochist decided to risk the knife. Before he could even scratch his skin, the promising blade was in Schuldig's hand. "It's SUNDAY," he protested.  
"Too bad. Bradley'll be mad enough that I let you out to believe with- and we're going for green, not red." Sighing, the older man returned to rooting through their surprisingly extensive food supply. Pushing a few cans out of the way, Farfarello hit on the answer. His face contorted into a run-for-the-hills kind of demented grin as he handed the cardboard boxes to Schuldig. Not a thing was said, but the way the cook's face lit up made it clear he understood.  
Returning from his walk, Crawford became immediately suspicious. The only sound was that of Nagi putting dishes in the sink, and the resident firebrand was nowhere to be found. Cautiously, he walked into the kitchen and began to make his lunch. He had no sooner gotten out two slices of bread than he realized someone was standing behind him. As if being snuck up on wasn't bad enough, the culprit proved to be Schuldig- not just a normal Schuldig, but one with a particularly self-satisfied expression on his face and something in his hand.  
"Aw, Bradlein... don't tell me you don't want what I made. It *is* my day to cook..." he half-whined, stepping closer to the older man with his hands behind his back. "And you're not wearing any green!" The American man glared, indicating approximately how much he cared. At this, his younger companion proffered what he'd been holding.  
"What does a box of Jell-O have to do with anything?" he demanded, uninterested. A feral grin spread slowly across the Mastermind's face as he formed his reply.  
"Can't you read, schön? It's lime."  
A few seconds later, Nagi took out his headphones.  
~OWARI~  
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Kinda pathetic and rough-draft-y, but hey- this is spontaneous "thinking" here!  
~Neko4~  
St. Patrick's Day 2002 


End file.
